Worthy of Legends
by Moonraker One
Summary: Enclosed within these pages is the story of the Legendary Super Saiyan, Broly. He never had a chance at a decent life in your universe, maybe in this one he did.
1. PROLOGUE

Worthy of Legends

By Moonraker One

PROLOGUE

APRIL 9, YEAR 740, entries 437 - 438 of the official birth records

CHILD 437  
Name: Broly  
Weight (at birth): 2.60 Kilograms  
Recorded birth power level, in Thousand Ki Units: 10 (unable to rank due to abnormally high power)

CHILD 438  
Name: Kakarot  
Weight (at birth): 2.02 Kilograms  
Recorded birth power level, in Single Ki Units: 2 (ranked third class low-level at birth)

* * *

DR. KLANGTHOR'S NOTES:

"Kakarot is the second child of Bardock and Celipa, both third-class middle-ranked soldiers, born with a low-class power level of two recorded on the official meter. His vitals were normal and his weight was predictable, notable characteristics included a very powerful set of lungs; he can yell very loudly and tends to upset newborns placed in stasis chambers near him. Broly is the first child of Paragus and Spargela, one a second-class lower elite soldier (no info on the mother), born with a rather high power level. In fact, it blew up our meter designed to scan power levels below a hundred when the machine attempted to rank it. We had to bring in a professional scanning device capable of upper hundred thousands to properly read his power level, which was an absolutely startling ten-thousand. His vitals were normal and his weight was predictable, despite his staggering power. I don't know how the officials will respond when they find out a child was born with the power of a royalty-class super elite. Our king has a power level only two hundred thousand more than this boy, and as such he may not allow this one to live. On a lighter note, we saw Kakarot's crying beginning to grate on the nerves of Broly, so we separated the two, much to the delight of the latter; Broly sleeps better now and cries less."

* * *

"Your highness! Your highness!" an elite Saiyan cried, dashing down the hallways of Vegeta's palace. When he got in the presence of his king, he bowed respectfully and waited to be called upon.

"What is it?" the Saiyan king boomed, his deep baritone voice echoing through the massive chamber.

"Sire!" answered the man. "A child was born this morning with a power level of ten-thousand!" To this release of information King Vegeta squinted in confusion. He'd been king for at least fifty years and had never seen such an occurrence. He knew that in order to attain a power level of that level, one would have to train for years and years and even then, it may not be achievable. So to the thought that a kid could have that power at birth was unimaginable.

"You lie!" he stated. "Such a thing cannot be possible!" The elite shook his head.

"It is not a lie sir…" he argued, but was cut off by a blast from his king that immediately erased him before he could even scream in pain.

"Don't tell me what I say is wrong!" he regarded his gathering of bodyguards. They respected his words and bowed momentarily. The sounds of footsteps caused all present to be in offensive mode, turning to the door. One servant of Vegeta stormed out in front of the approaching figure to argue, but an invisible release of ki threw him backwards behind Vegeta, where he smashed through a solid wall made from stone. The figure regarded all those in front of him with a sense that they were inferior, and held his head high as his tail swished left and right with his walking. The king himself bowed his head if nothing else. Vegeta swallowed; the only time this man's presence was required was when something had happened.

"Lord Cooler!" Vegeta announced. "What brings you to your brother's territory?"

Cooler smiled—which either meant he had something terrible up his sleeve, or he intended to kill someone. "A funny thing happened on my way to see you," he explained. "I'd come here just to seek out some of your young ones to take with me and train to become great warriors, when I overheard the strangest, dumbest, most inexplicably retarded idea ever—that a Saiyan child had been born today with a power level of exactly ten-thousand." Vegeta tugged at the collar of his royal armor—the statement by his servant hadn't been a lie? He knew if it _was_, and Cooler found out, the king of the Saiyans would be a dead man.

"So, what do you intend to do, Lord Cooler?"

"What would you do, Vegeta?" he countered. "I'm going to see if that rumor is true!" Wanting not to be in suspense over whether or not it was true, King Vegeta stepped down from his throne to follow Cooler to the birthing chambers. The long hallways, adorned with paintings of the various kings of the Saiyan people, passed by quickly despite both mighty warriors pondering the same serious questions. Who was this child, they thought. What were the consequences of him _actually_ having a power level that high at birth, they thought. The only difference was, Vegeta had a deal of concern that the child would become something out of control one day, and Cooler had visions of his most powerful subordinate ever, not once considering any other possibility for the young one. They both made it to the section that contained a never-ending wall of stasis chambers with infants inside.

Cooler asked the quivering servant at the main desk which one had the "special child" in it, and he was pointed in the proper direction. Then, as they stood behind the glass shield keeping them out of reach of the child, the eldest son of King Cold scanned the power level of the newborn with his scanner—he could sense power levels mentally, so it was merely a decoration and a communication tool—and found it to be true to form. Fluctuating only slightly up and down by one unit, the child indeed, possessed a power level of ten-thousand.

"I shall take him with me," Cooler commanded, his voice carrying its tone typical of gathering all attention. "I'm sure he's got a great deal of potential." The son of King Cold, the eldest heir to the vast empire, whom could command an entire planet—no, an entire solar system, with his mere voice, had no idea of the exact degree of what he was talking about.


	2. Chapter One

Worthy of Legends

By Moonraker One

Author's note: Realize that in the show, Broly is essentially emotionless except for sadistic hatred towards Kakarot (Goku) and psychopathic murder drives. This is an A.U.; he's not going to act the same as he did in the show. Before you complain that I'm "butchering" Broly's character, realize that in the show, not only was he betrayed by his people as an infant, but he was driven insane by Goku's incessant crying. Read the prologue, and you'll see that in this story they were separated.

Broly's Private Journal - Page 042 - Thirty-sixth entry since starting the journal four years ago:

"The date is April 1, 752. April fools' day, I think. Today Lord Cooler gave me my first mission. It wasn't much; all I was supposed to do was sit at the sidelines and watch as his elites went to town on a small planet on the outskirts of the Cekorutan system. They partied amongst the people, ate their food and drank their wine, then at the end of the day left the populace with a smile, moments before our ever so gracious lord decided to annihilate the planet with a death ball. He said it was a lesson in how to detach from things. He should at least have spared the planet. I'm a Saiyan, and my master tells me that I'm supposed to enjoy the sight of killings, but it sickens me that they'd make an entire planet think they loved them and _then_ betray them. I'll be turning twelve in eight days, and Lord Cooler says I'll get to go on my first killing mission as a birthday present. Some poor bastard on Krytak owes our lord some money, and has sworn that 'no one will take him alive.' Tell you the truth, journal, I don't want to go. I don't like murder of innocent people, and that kinda makes my father upset. Then again, he has the luxury of staying on a Saiyan colony on the outer edge of the universe where he can talk to me through secured scouter transmission lines that King Cold's equipment can't pick up, and the colony his military can't find. He didn't have the luxury of seeing my mother killed in front of me by the man I'm supposed to bow before and wipe the shoes of. He didn't have the luxury of being beaten up every time one of Cooler's whores won't sleep with him. Ah, that's another thing; it sickens me to see these women debasing themselves by sleeping with a man just so that their people have the right to live. It doesn't seem to phase our lord to kill an entire planet because one of their women won't give him what he wants. He thinks I'm stupid and I don't know about sex and stuff; I know. I watch the intergalactic television on my scouter when I'm not training, sleeping, eating or bathing, and I've seen enough movies and educational programs to know better. I snicker behind Lord Cooler's back when I see him walking in cold weather on planet Cardaria, his people's home planet. He takes me wherever he goes in order to 'teach me the ways of the Cardarians,' he always reminds me. I don't want to know the ways of the Cardarians, I want to know the ways of my own person, mind you. The reason I laugh behind his back is he has a permanent limp in his right leg that has resisted all medical attempts to correct, that only shows up during cold weather; I gave him the limp for his thirtieth birthday, the day he killed my mother before me. He thought he could instill a murderous attitude in me, and he actually succeeded in being counter-productive. Because of him, I see what horror it is to kill, and I know better. I went to church today, I prayed to God, I went before the priest and told him as much as I could that wouldn't incriminate me. He said since I haven't killed anyone, God would forgive my sins as long as I said the prayer of God three times with sufficient reflection, whatever the hell that means. Lord Cooler blew up the church and doesn't want to tell me about it, but I know it was him. Tomorrow I have the 'distinct honor of being a guest' in his brother Frieza's ship; lucky me. I'm so happy I could shit myself. Ha ha, that's sarcasm; I looked that word up today on the intergalactic internet. Gotta go for training, so until next time, journal, it's just you and me. Ciao."

CHAPTER ONE

He slipped on his Saiyan battle armor and after taking a drink of vitamin-enhanced water, he sighed; just eight days would mark the twelfth birthday of a young warrior by the name of Broly. He had seen enough battles in the six years or so he'd been training, to know what it meant to be powerful. When he was just five, he began his first rounds of training against Cooler, the man who'd taken him from planet Vegeta, and by the time he was seven, he'd outclassed almost all of Cooler's lower elites. Now, the eldest tyrant son of King Cold and the young Saiyan taken from his people as an infant had become unwilling allies, or at least Broly attempted to make it seem they were allies. He'd discovered his talent for fighting at such a young age, that a few times he playfully sparred against Cooler, who despite having a drastic power advantage, still toned it down enough to make it a fair fight. He'd wanted to show the Saiyan child that in order to be a proper servant to a vastly superior being, you had to be tough. He hadn't expected, of course, that at the age of nine, when he decided to further instill murder in the child's mind, that killing Spargela in front of him would cause a sudden outburst, but that would be his last mistake, he swore. Never again would he agitate the child to that degree on purpose. Broly stepped into the fighting chamber, secured with near-unbreakable adamantium walls that also absorbed all the shockwaves to prevent damage to the ship, and watched as his challengers entered as well. Four of the challengers, Broly had never before seen; the other, Sauzaa, he considered to be the closest thing to a living friend he'd ever had. He knew the Pienorian warrior was the single strongest of Cooler's henchmen—or at least he was until today's bout would prove, he hoped—but he also knew that Sauzaa had snuck extra food out of the mess hall to give to him when the tyrant son would get pissed and order no food for Broly. Surely, if anyone, HE would be the friend.

Cooler limped into the monitoring room adjacent to the fighting chamber. Someone had accidentally turned the air conditioning unit too high; he hated his limp being seen by anyone, and thus wondered who the lucky victim of his wrath would be. It still bothered him how the kid threw all caution aside those few years ago, and in a sudden rage of anger and storm of power, kicked him so hard in the leg that it broke in four places above and below the knee. It still bothered him that recovery chambers, corrective surgery, and even nanotechnology corrected the bone break, but refused to correct the limp. Cameras were installed behind transparent adamantium plates inside the chamber's walls, and several underlings watched and monitored the fights that would occur in the chamber. The fight kicked off when the bright white light above went off and the red light activated. Four of the elites zoomed towards Broly, and they all were on the ground, gasping for air the instant one of them came within a foot of him. Soon it was down to Broly and Sauzaa. These two both considered the other friend; Sauzaa kept his power at its max, but kept a check on himself so he didn't kill his opponent accidentally, and Broly didn't want to use the secret power he'd discovered two years before because it might obliterate his friend. The secret power was something else, something that amazed the young Saiyan and terrified him at the same time. When his mother was killed, he stopped short of using it because he worried that if it didn't kill Cooler, his only ace would have been revealed. That and a particular device Cooler wore in order to limit the amount of power the kid could generate at any given moment. It was a handheld remote on the planet trader's hand, which responded to a metal plate in the shape of a C that fit onto Broly at the base of his neck and on his forehead.

* * *

Broly's Private Journal - Page 039 - Twentieth entry since starting the journal: 

"The date is January 17, 749. I only write entries in you, journal, when significant events occur. Most of Cooler's elites were out killing people, so that meant I had to go out and do chores for him like gathering servants. They sent me down on this planet called Mithruk-No, and I saw a man torturing a woman out in a field. That woman looked a little like my mother, so naturally I dropped what I was doing and zoomed out to the area. What happened next I'll never forget; I flew towards him screaming, 'Leave her alone!' but he kept at it. Once I kicked him off of her, he punched me in the face, amazed me just how strong the bastard was. He made my nose bleed and kicked me in the balls a second later. Thinking my mother was being raped, and that this possibly was another attempt by Cooler to get me more on his side, I felt a strange power and light come over me, and suddenly I was glowing. I didn't have much time to think about it, though, as the man drove his fist towards me again. Strange thing was, this time, I saw it coming like it was moving through molasses; slower than hell. I kicked him in his chest, broke all his ribs at once; he slinked off to the inside to heal himself in a chamber, I guess. The woman thanked me, and I quickly found out that it wasn't my mother. I left her all alone and flew out to the middle of nowhere, and tested out my power. I have to say, it was a feeling I've never felt, like getting high or something. Upon further inspection I could turn the glow and the power on and off at will. Amazing!"

Scribbled below in the cramped space below it:

"Super Saiyan! Super Saiyan! Suuupppppeeerrr Saaiiiyyannn! I'm a Super Saiyan! I mean, I looked it up on the internet and the legend fits all my personality traits except the one about endless killing, I still haven't decided on that one yet, but I'm the legend! Yaaaayyy! I better not show lord Cooler though. He's already pissed that I'm nine and already as tall as him."

* * *

Sauzaa snapped his fingers, instantly drawing the young warrior to attention. "You ready for _our_ fight?" he asked. Broly grinned voraciously. Sauzaa knew that _that_ would get his mind set. 

"I was born ready," the young Saiyan egged, and powered up without going Super Saiyan.

From the monitoring room, Cooler sat in between his servants, eagerly watching as Sauzaa and the Saiyan kid exchanged blows. He could simply not believe that his most trusted servant, Sauzaa, could be matched in power by a young kid that had far fewer years' experience in the field of fighting. It looked in a sense like David and Goliath, except in this version, the two were equal. Broly had grown quite tall for his young age of eleven, soon to be twelve; he already stood six foot one, a whole three inches taller than his opponent. The planet trader sat with arms folded staring into the screens as the battle refused to go in any one direction towards any one fighter. Broly could very easily have stormed his opponent had he gone Super Saiyan, but he didn't, so the fight continued. A familiar, evil grin formed on Cooler's face when he saw the Saiyan child duck beneath a right hook aimed at his forehead, and roll behind Sauzaa to nail him in his back. It was at that precise moment that the tyrant lifted his hand and decreased the kid's power just enough to give his right-hand man the advantage. The sudden decrease in his power pushed the Saiyan's speed down enough for him to be caught directly on the right cheek with a vicious roundhouse upon his assailant turning around.

Sauzaa stared at the wall, in the direction of the camera facing his master. "Lord Cooler," he argued, "I thought we agreed we'd do this without your help!" Cooler rolled his eyes.

"Sauzaa, just keep at what you're doing!" commanded the planet trader. "You can worry about honor once the fight's over and done with." His servant nodded and charged towards Broly once more, except this time he dodged before his opponent could strike him. Sensing the kid appear behind him, Sauzaa swung his body violently around, hoping to catch his foe with a chop, except he vanished again.

"Kid, if you don't strike at me soon, I'm gonna come at you!" he warned his young friend. "This fight's to determine who's really better between us! One of us is gonna have to be carried to the regeneration chamber when all's said and done!" He heard his opponent appear behind him, but he had no time to react.

"That so?" Broly uttered, moments before grabbing his opponent and lifting him high above his head, gorilla-press style. He then brought Sauzaa down hard, bending him in the shape of a C in the wrong direction onto his knee. Sauzaa let out a loud scream as he felt several vertebrae creek and snap under the sheer force of the impact. He then let his writhing opponent fall to the floor, barely able to speak. "Then it looks like things are all said and done!" The young Saiyan left the chamber as the medics went in to aid his defeated opponent to the regeneration chambers. By the day's end, Sauzaa would be back on his feet again, but right now he'd been put in a world of hurt with a broken spine. Broly regarded his master with the same enmity that he'd held towards Cooler since the day his mother had been killed. "Why'd you make me do that!" he demanded. To this question, Cooler only sneered, and began clapping.

"You've proved to me that I've finally created a monster I can be proud of," he replied. "Someone who's willing to kick the ass of their best friend if need be. Good job."

* * *

Cooler's Private Log - Disc 0179 

"Date is April 8, 749. Tomorrow is that asshole brat Broly's birthday. He's good at fighting, I can tell you that much, but one thing I hate is that he's a freaking _Saiyan_, and he absolutely refuses to kill any of my lower elites that I throw into battle against him as sacrificial lambs! I KNOW that even at this age he's already stronger than about anyone I've got except maybe Sauzaa's personal squadron of trained elites, and even then, he's stronger than about half of them! _WHY won't he kill anybody?_! So I murdered his friend when he was five, so_what! _It's just really pissing me off! He's definitely got some power hidden within him—couldn't possibly be the legend, the super Saiyan…could it? N…no, NO. I don't believe in that rubbish, and even then, no monkey has power greater than me or my brother. I had that power limit device put on Broly as solely a safety precaution; if this 'power' of his does come out, I want to have the possibility to push it down before he can be an annoyance to me. But damn it! I've GOT to get a killing rage attitude drilled into that boy if he's _ever_ gonna become useful to me! I know! I know, damn it! That one bitch of mine, that shape-shifting whore; I could never track down his _real_ mother Spargela, but I've seen her image, and with it I can put my shape shifter woman in front of him disguised permanently as his mother, and I'll just kill her! If THAT doesn't do the trick, I don't know what can! Some of my elites say it's bad to piss off a powerful Saiyan child, especially one as truly gifted as to have been born with a power level of ten thousand. Bah; I'm COOLER. No one is greater than me except my father, and that gap is shortening! Log data record; I'm out."

* * *

After the insidious plan to turn friends against friends came out, Broly seemed only mildly surprised. Instead of showing what little shock he did have, he sneered and looked at Cooler's leg. "I see you're enjoying that limp I gave you, Lord Cooler," he harped. Several of Cooler's elites laughed, only to be silenced immediately by a single glare from their leader. One person got a death beam, and was carried off to the disposal unit. Broly predicted the use of his master's device, so he tried to power up. Bad move; Cooler caught him the instant the boy started. 

BAM.

Broly's head went forward as the force from Cooler's jab to the gut pushed his torso backwards. As the fist came out, he clutched his abdomen in pain, right before his master's foot sent him into the back wall. He tried to right himself, but Cooler moved with a god's speed, and instantly arrived in front of him. A punch flew, but the tyrant son caught the Saiyan child's attack, and bent the kid's elbow ninety degrees in the wrong direction, instantly breaking the elbow joint in four places. The walls actually rattled as Broly let out the single loudest scream he'd let out in a long time. An instant later, a well-placed foot crushed all of his ribs in a neat pattern. Cooler merely stood up and brushed off, ordering one of his underlings to take the kid to a regeneration chamber—God forbid the investment he'd suffered so much hardship and headache over should die by injuries caused by a mere moment's attack.

"Ignorant little..." Cooler uttered as he limped off to have his daily meal.

Broly found his breaths to be labored as he struggled to calm himself down. Most of him had been injured by his master's attack. Ah, the irony; he'd be stuck in a regeneration chamber next to Sauzaa. _How the hell do you put up with that man, Sauzaa?_ he thought to himself as the subordinates carried him to the healing room.


	3. Chapter Two

Worthy of Legends

by Moonraker One

Author's note: Sorry if Sauzaa is OOC (out of character) in this story, I figured it'd make him more interesting.

CHAPTER TWO

Days seemed to pass in the four hours that Broly and his friend Sauzaa spent in their separate regeneration chambers. Broly had time to think of everything that Cooler had done to him during the time he'd spent serving the eldest son of King Cold. He thought of other things, like his family. He watched the news every time he wasn't caught up in training, and he also had personal connections with his father and friends, so he knew that the energy fluctuation that hid the most populous Saiyan colony from Cold's radar methods hadn't faded away, so they were still safe; he thanked God every day for that. He recalled that on the day that he'd been taken aboard Cooler's ship, Frieza had decided that it would behoove him to destroy the Saiyan's homeworld. For Saiyans all over the universe, it had been the most sorrowful day in their history. Never had any being in the universe been powerful enough to challenge the Sayians during their glorious history. Once word got around that it had been Frieza of the Cold family, there was a species-wide call for blood. However, almost any Saiyan that had ever served under the youngest son of Cold knew that there was no chance that any normal Saiyan could ever challenge him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the DNA-filled liquid within the regeneration chamber emptied into a series of drainage pipes and the lid came open, leaving a naked and shivering Broly to be greeted with a pulse of energy from the drying mechanism that drove all the beads of water off his skin surface. Once he was dry, a pair of subordinates of his master presented him with his clothing, and he rapidly dressed himself in his armor and attached his scouter. It was a semi-useless item for him as, like his master, he could sense ki, but he used it still for communication purposes. Sauzaa shook his head and smiled as he slapped the young Saiyan on the back.

"Damn, boy!" Sauzaa cried out in praise of the young warrior, his accent audible. "You bested me in combat, despite Lord Cooler's interruption! That was a hell of a finisher you gave me, cracked my spine almost in half!" Broly chuckled a bit.

"I went easy on you, I could've..." he began, but Sauzaa interrupted him.

"You could've taken it up a notch, right?" Broly froze where he stood. There was no way that the right-hand man of Cooler could know, could he? He hated to think that another soul in the world knew his little secret. Sauzaa winked at him, letting him know that his secret was safe with the French-speaking warrior. "Lord Cooler had a device installed in the pens you write in your journal with, so that every letter you write is recorded on his computer. I hacked the data flow to prevent him from knowing your little secrets you write. That's what friends're for, right?" The two left the recovery room, walking side by side, discussing the latest matters of the time. It was sort of ironic, at least to Sauzaa, that his friend was only eleven years old and already taller than him. The kid's lanky arms and legs were the only thing that still looked pre-teenage. If he was more muscular—as Sauzaa predicted would happen at this "super Saiyan" level—he would easily pass as a much older person. Even Broly's face had lost most of its childish, inexperienced look about it; probably the effect of knowing (at least believing) that his mother had died. Sauzaa desperately wanted to tell the young Saiyan that it hadn't happened that way, that the woman murdered in front of him was just a shape-shifting prostitute, but he wanted someone to finally put an end to Cooler once and for all—and who better to do it than a pissed-off Saiyan of legend. Secretly, he wanted to serve a ruler that would never take an innocent life. He would much rather serve his young friend Broly than the sadistic tyrant son, but had his own reasons for that.

"Something bothering you, Sauzaa?" Broly had said, noticing a sullen look on the face of his friend. Sauzaa took a deep breath; he didn't want to tell the kid now, but he figured Broly would find out anyway. So, with a shake of his head, he collected the memories from the past.

"Broly, my friend," he began, almost choking on his own words, "I'm gonna be twenty next week. Cooler has been my master my entire life. On the day I was born, Cold removed me from my home, and I haven't seen Pienorial since. I want to go home but Cooler won't let me. I'm afraid I'm gonna live my entire life under the rule of a bastard child of King Cold and Queen Chilia." Broly shook his head, as he recalled having similar thoughts despite being younger. _Don't worry,_ he thought. _One day Cooler is going to die at a Saiyan's hands._

"Sauzaa, don't lose faith."

Sauzaa let out a sigh of a laugh. "Yeah, faith. What little of that I have I'm gonna try not to lose." While they went towards the mess hall to get their afternoon meal, Broly thought of the messages sent to him by his father, Paragus. He'd been told to keep the faith, just like he kept telling Sauzaa, and also that one day, perhaps he could do what no other Saiyan had done. Keeping the messages from his father revolving in his mind kept him going on some days when he found no other reason to. Almost three-fourths of the way through one of his father's particularly memorable words of wisdom, as an afterthought he caught a glimpse of Sauzaa's left forearm, and noticed seventeen small scars that were milimeter-wide slits of visible scar tissue. The experienced warrior smiled a fake smile and held it up.

"You wondering about these?" he asked.

Broly chuckled. "I think my powers of observation are not as keen as your ability to state the obvious. What're they for?"

"I got these seventeen scars on my arm to remind me of what I owe God when I die. Each planet, each time, I leave myself another scar. If this keeps up I'll be covered from head to toe with these scars before I hit my twenty-first birthday." Such brought a collective laugh from both warriors. Brolly, who cringed at the thought of his best friend being covered top to bottom in "reminder scars," began to wonder, if Cooler sent him on death missions, if he should start doing the same. As if reading his mind Sauzaa gave a negative glance towards him, sort of telling him that such would be futile. The public announcement system crackled, which indicated that a message would soon be brought through.

"Attention, would Broly and Sauzaa please report to Lord Cooler's office immediately," a random subordinate uttered emotionlessly. "Our lord has requested your presence." Both seasoned warriors exchanged exasperated glances, and began to change their course, heading towards the office of their unliked leader instead of the mess hall like they wanted to go to. Neither knew what was needed of them. However, as the emotionless steel doors flew open, they each saw that Cooler had in his hand a particular list. Of what, no one knew. While they stood at ease and wondered what was going on, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Sauzaa, Broly," Cooler explained, "you two are my two most powerful subordinates. Broly, tomorrow you will be a guest of honor at my brother's banquet aboard his ship. Dignitaries from the second most important race outside of our own will be dining with him, and you are to provide protection. Sauzaa, you are to accompany him to ensure that nothing...out of the ordinary happens. Do you understand?"

They both nodded. "Yes sir," Broly answered respectively, "we understand completely."

"Good. You may leave my chambers now." Just as Sauzaa prepared to leave the room, Broly managed to capture his master's attention by raising his hand. "Yes, Broly?"

"Um, Sauzaa and myself would like to spar on an abandoned planet, somewhere out of the ship, you know, just so that we can fight to our fullest?"

Cooler lowered his eyebrows suspicious of the young Saiyan's reasons. "What reason do you have for fighting outside that the ship cannot provide?"

Broly had to think of a legitimate reason, and fast. With luck on his side, he did. "Um, it's just that we can't properly spar within the confines of this ship. It's just too cramped in those little fighting chambers."

Cooler rolled his eyes. "Fine." With that one word, Broly's hopes rose.he had one reason for having to be with Sauzaa alone, and it certainly wasn't sparring. A more proper explanation would be disclosure of information. "Subordinate! Prepare two space pods, target is planet 71-X3A." The servant at the computer tapped furiously at the keyboard and acknowledged to his master that the job had been done. "You two have exactly two hours. Then I am requiring that you two eat and enter your personal stasis pods. You need to get rested up for tomorrow."

Sauzaa and his young Saiyan friend exited Cooler's chambers, and headed towards the launch room to enter their pods. The french-accented Pienorian warrior looked with confusion up at Broly. "Um, Broly," he questioned, "I know you have your reasons for everything, but what's up with wanting to spar on some uninhabited planet?" Broly leaned in and whispered quietly so as not to accidentally activate the voice detectors in the walls.

"I have to show you something," he whispered. Sauzaa had no clue as to what he needed to know that he didn't already. The young Saiyan smiled. "Don't worry, Sauzaa, I'm sure after you see what I'm about to show you, you'll have more faith in the anti-Cooler cause."

* * *

They stood in the midst of an empty plain, on a lifeless planet. Nowhere on the entire surface did a single plant or strain of bacteria linger. The planet itself had the unmistakable smell of death; Sauzaa smelled it every time he came upon a planet after a compete purging. Partial purgings only cleared intelligent life; complete purges occurred to powerful species' planets, and all life was terminated. This obviously was a complete purging. Sauzaa hated sterile planets; it made his heart ache at the thought of dead species.

"Okay, what do you need to show me?" he asked of Broly.

Broly grinned and clenched his fists tight at his sides. "I'm going to show you the truth," he offered. "What you're about to see is the absolute truth behind my power." Sauzaa did not know immediately what to think, as sweat began to form on his young friend's forehead. The truth was that Broly had to bring to the front of his mind all the dark deeds done to him by Cooler. His friend's murder at age five, his "mother's" death at age nine, all his dark past he had to bring forth. Not one bad deed done to him was spared. It became evident to Sauzaa due to the angered look that had just formed on the tall young Saiyan's face as his hair turned golden and his eyes solid green.

Sauzaa began to tremble. The boy's power rose by hundreds at first, then thousands. Within the space of a minute, with rocks of all sizes hurtling into the air with the rapidly rising power, Broly's ki peaked. The whole planet began to tremble as if it were going to rip apart. "My god...what _ARE_ you!"

Broly's grin returned, only this time it put no less than the darkest kind of fear within the Pienorian warrior's heart. He had never felt as scared of _Cooler_ as he did of the young Saiyan he called his friend, and his friend had never wished him ill will or lifted a finger against him that was outside of sparring. "This is amazing isn't it? You know what's even better? This isn't my max!"

Sauzaa very nearly crapped himself. He had no words to say as he saw the light golden hair of his young friend become a slightly greenish-yellow hue, only ever so slightly more green than golden. But the vagueness of the change of hair color contrasted with the muscle mass increase that Broly experienced. Where he previously had been a nearly rail-thin lanky young Saiyan, he now looked like a mountain of muscle. Sauzaa had seen King Cold use his absolute maximum power to blow away multiple planets with a single blast, and it did not come within _half_ the power shooting off of the young Saiyan. The thing that terrified him beyond all other things, was the knowledge that at this sheer level of might, Broly could rip him apart without a single bit of effort, and meet no resistance in the process. More than a decade and a half of working for Cooler hadn't seen the same fear.

"Holy Jesus!" uttered an at-a-loss-for-words Sauzaa.

"No. My savior complex takes on a different form."


	4. Chapter Three

Worthy of Legends

By Moonraker One

A/N: This chapter is short because it is a teaser for the next one, which is going to be longer and (hopefully) more intriguing.

CHAPTER THREE

An elderly Cardarian doctor sat engrossed in the data that was on a sheet of paper still hot from the printer. He could scarcely believe what he was staring at; he'd examined his lord and master multiple times, and never seen anything conclusive regarding Cooler's limp. The mighty son of King Cold had, in all his years, never come across a lingering problem such as the one he'd suffered. In one of his many seemingly fruitless attempts to instill a murderous attitude within Broly—his subordinate that had the most potential of any of them—he had taken one of his prostitutes that had the power to shape-shift, and forced her to act the part of the kid's mother. Then, hoping to get his point across, he tore the girl's heart from her chest directly in front of the young Saiyan's eyes before she had the chance to disprove her false identity. The result was a violent power-up on Broly's part, and a kick to Cooler's right leg that broke the knee in two places above the joint, and a couple places below. He'd tried everything he had at his disposal to try and correct the problem but nothing seemed to work at all. Any time it was cold the problem would visually return with a vengeance. Yet, this time, the doctor had some information from a recent study of the long-since-healed wound site.

"Sir," the elderly doctor explained, "there is absolutely nothing wrong with the knee joint, my lord. I've consulted doctors in nearly every field of science that would be relevant to the injury you suffered, and I must conclude that the limp is psychosomatic." Cooler's eyes widened in shock at the preposterousness of the claim he'd just received. To think that he, the mighty elder son of Cold, could have a problem exist that was caused by his mind! It was ridiculous. "You must have suffered some kind of psychological incident that causes your brain to create this problem." The initial shock Cooler displayed changed to anger in a hurry, and he took the doctor by the collar of his coat.

"HOW can you make such an absurd statement as that!" he shouted. "To think that my mind could be the source of the problem! How dare you?" The doctor swallowed hard, obviously fearful for his life. He had told the truth, and since it was something his master did not want to hear, it could be the last statement he made.

"L…Lord Cooler…clearly _something_ must have inspired a bit of fear into you to force your mind to create this problem!"

It was the wrong thing to say; Cooler threw the doctor against the wall and vaporized him (as well as a good portion of the building) with a mild release of ki from his right palm. _Hmph,_ he thought. _Fear, of all things to say! How can anything frighten me?_ Yet in the dark portion of his mind, he knew it to be true. The damned Saiyan had shown a severely high amount of power that had been put into the kick, and it had been that action that forced Cooler to put the power inhibitor onto the forehead of the child, but his conscious mind thought of his invulnerability and the fact that a child having the power to damage _him_ of all people seemed far too outlandish, and he dismissed the idea.

_The kid? Being more powerful than _ME_? Not a chance. I am the most powerful being in the universe.

* * *

A few parsecs away, a large spaceship (one of the Cardarian fleet's best) soared through the space that was the Flekatian system, where a race of powerful military domain had been negotiating peace with the Cardarians for quite some time. Even though the Flekatians had powerful military forces in their area, the more powerful warriors of Frieza's race could bring them invincibility in their region of the universe. And so, a banquet was held aboard Frieza's ship with two of the most important dignitaries dining with the mighty younger son of King Cold and his most powerful subordinates. Broly, as the young warrior suspected, was there to present the illusion of diversity amongst the young emperor's servants, in contrast to the fact that in reality, most of Frieza's subordinates were either Pienorian (Sauzaa's people) or Paladian (a powerful race conquered by Cooler)._

"It is good to have you aboard, Dignitaries Ku'Lak and Ku'Lona," Frieza uttered, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a long sip. "We are in the final stages of overlooking your offer, and if my congress approves, we can see long-lasting peace between our peoples." One of Cold's younger son's most beautiful looking teammates (meaning she was one of a group of prostitutes who attended formal occasions as his serious love interest, when, in actuality, she was merely a sex slave) sat immediately adjacent to him as he waited for the waiter to bring to the dignitaries and him the meal. The girl hated serving Frieza in the manner for which she was enslaved because, one, she wasn't paid enough, two, her master suffered from a lack of skill in the sex department (and sexual underachievers compensate primarily by physical abuse), and three, she hadn't yet attained the age of seventeen but already had been abused in nearly every possible manner.

"So, my dear," one of the dignitaries inquired, directing his attention at the female next to Frieza. "You are his wife?"

"_Fiancé,_" she lied. She hated having to say it; it was a lie she'd been forced to give many times over the last year. "We're set to be married next month."

"Back onto the subject matter, then," Frieza stated, bringing the conversation back to the agreement. "I'm convinced my congress will approve entirely your offer. Then, we can begin the full act of trade between our two nation systems."

The male dignitary smiled and got up to use the bathroom. "I'm glad we are in such good terms," he said before leaving the table. The female dignitary was beautiful, even by the standards of Frieza's perverted mind, which leaned him towards young girls of teen age, which mostly didn't consider women of forty or over. She saw the waiter approach the table, and wanted to properly wash up beforehand, so she too left the table to head for the bathroom. Broly, seated at a side position of the table, noticed a grin form on Frieza's face for just a moment, and it made him jittery. The warlord son of Cold turned to the young Saiyan and Sauzaa, seated behind him.

"My my. My brother must have a lot of faith in you two," he said to the two from his brother's ship. It was an insult because seldom did a Saiyan step onto Frieza's ship voluntarily. "To send you to be presented as one of my servants before a pair of dignitaries is truly a wondrous event for you two."

"Yes, of course, oh mightly Lord Frieza!" Sauzaa announced in a false yet necessarily gleeful tone. God forbid he say something to piss of one of the most powerful beings in existence. Broly had a slightly less cheerful statement than his fellow Cooler subordinate, but he too tried to cover up his hatred of the Cold family, and it seemed to work wonders.

"I want you, Broly, to go in the back and fetch one of my best bottles of wine for this dinner; these dignitaries should be treated to the bottle on the red shelf that I never take down," Frieza commanded. He waited for the young Saiyan to accept and leave the table to obtain it. He then turned his attention to the Pienorian servant of his brother. "Sauzaa, you need to get the proper paperwork from my office just down the hall from the bathrooms. They have to see the new agreed-to terms."

"Yes sir!" he agreed, then left.

* * *

Broly entered the wine storage room just five doors down the hallway from the large guest bathroom aboard Frieza's ship. He nearly choked on the dust that had accumulated on the bottles in the refrigerated chamber. It was a massive room adorned with seemingly endless rows of bottles, some of which had been stored and preserved for a few hundred years aboard this ship by previous King Cold's. The red shelf was at the top of the last row of bottles, where only a half dozen bottles sat. These were obviously the pride of Frieza's collection, as they had more dust than any other. He walked to the last row at the end of the enormous wine room and hovered up to the top shelf, when a feeling struck him and the surprise of it nearly caused him very nearly to topple the massive columns of wine over.

One of the dignitaries experienced a sudden, sharp decrease in their ki signature. He quickly snatched the necessary wine bottle and left the room, dashing down the hall towards the bathroom. Halfway to the bathroom, the ki signature of the previous one completely vanished, and the other's life force dropped severely, as well. Something had killed one, and delivered a fatal blow to the other that hadn't finished them off yet. He found the bathroom door locked when he got there; a forceful kick shattered the door to splinters. He entered the bathroom to find a massive pool of blood spreading, the center of which lied the two dignitaries. The male had already been dead, while his wife coughed a few times and fell into permanent sleep a few seconds after Broly entered. A figure, concealed by shadow, vanished into thin air immediately upon the young Saiyan glancing at it, causing him to drop his bottle in shock and nearly fall over. Staring in sheer fright at the two dead dignitaries from the planet nearby, he almost didn't notice a figure's ki signature approach him.

It was the prostitute of Frieza's that saw it. She took one look at the dead bodies, the fragments of the bottle on the ground, and the tall young Saiyan standing over them, and before he could tell his side of the story, she let out a shrill scream. "HE'S KILLED THEM BOTH! THE SAIYAN HAS KILLED THEM BOTH!"

"NO! WAIT! I…" his side of the story was cut short as a syringe capsule, fired from a dart gun, implanted itself into his upper back, and injected into him a greenish-blue liquid before he had a chance to pull it out. By the time he forcefully yanked the capsule from his back, and stared at the needle through which about four teaspoons of some liquid had been injected, he already began to feel the effects. "I…didn't…"

"Sleep," a voice instructed, exiting a stall behind Broly as the Saiyan collapsed forward onto the tiled floor. "You'll have a hell of a headache in the morning."

Frieza's voice spoke to the mysterious figure. "Is it done?"

"Not quite. We still have to try him. Don't worry, my lord; no court in the universe would free him after the video evidence we've got, and after the Flekatians attack us for killing their dignitaries, you can destroy them all, and justify it by saying some Saiyan anarchist—Cooler's 'boy' here—acting alone snuck aboard the ship and assassinated them. It'll make your destruction of their entire system an act of self-defense."

He smiled at the figure. "Good. Now take the 'prisoner' here into custody so we can finish this." At Frieza's command, the person lifted the lanky Saiyan's frame onto their shoulder and teleported off the ship.


	5. Chapter Four

Worthy of Legends

by Moonraker One

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I just had a lot going on that had to be taken care of first. I figured I'd kept you guys waiting long enough, so I'll split this chapter into two so you've got something to read now instead of having to wait longer.

CHAPTER FOUR

The two sons of King Cold stood opposite each other in the hallway of an old courthouse on planet Cardaria. Cooler had a lot on his mind; namely, the plan that his brother had put into place without his knowledge or input. Frieza had his own problems to deal with, and the manipulation of his brother' s trust was about the only way that he could get them done. They simply stared at each other, with the elder brother unable to gather his words at the moment, for he was enraged that he was not let in on the plan. Finally, with a wipe of his face, he collected his thoughts.

"Frieza," he angrily beckoned, "I demand to know why you used me, and didn't even have the guts to ask my permission first!" Two of his servants had been put into a use which they were not intended for, and it was not the first time it had happened, either. "I can understand having to find a way to justify the destruction of a system crucial to your own territory, but for crying out loud, why did you have to use my subordinates as bait?"

"Saiyan monkeys are highly regarded throughout the galaxy as the heartless destroyers they are," the younger sibling tyrant reminded his older brother. "It would be far better accepted if the excuse was that one of them had attacked the dignitaries as opposed to someone else."

"THAT _DOESN'T_ EXPLAIN why you had to use _MINE_!"

Frieza backed down like a wounded animal. "Brother, please! Calm down! This will work out in your favor!"

Cooler cleared his throat and faced his brother just as angrily as before; this had better be damned good. "Just how the hell is potentially losing two of my best servants going to work out in my favor?" It was to this question that his younger sibling had an answer.

"Well, I've heard that this 'Broly' is a bleeding heart of a warrior, isn't that right?"

Cooler huffed a moment; just where the hell was this idiot of a brother of his going with this? "Yeah, what the hell does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"Think, brother..." he took his older brother by the shoulder and led him towards the courtroom. "What'll they do? They'll find him—possibly both of them—guilty of both murder and conspiracy to end peace talks. Both crimes of terrorists; and you know as good as I do that crimes of terrorists fall under Chillita's speciality." The mention of his baby sister's name brought feelings of anger and resentment to the surface for Cooler. Chillita, the daughter of King Cold and a servant woman, born illegitimately onCooler's twelfth birthday; it had been something that had shoved a wedge between him and his dad that he could never properly overcome. Not that he didn't want to forgive his father for what he thought had been done to his late mother's memory, but he found it impossible to look past the fact that a grieving Cold had turned to a sub-class Cardarian woman for comfort, and worse, had a child with her. Shaking his head, he pushed the past behind him for the moment to hear the rest of what his little brother had to say. "You know how she runs the prison systems, brother. She is notorious for staging fights between prisoners, having torture done to induce repentance from criminals, and lots of the other things people hear about. No one leaves her prison without being seriously affected mentally. A murderous freak will enter a prison of hers with his mind in tatters; a god-loving person imcarcerated wrongly wil leave a vicious taker of lives without a conscience. If your subordinates have a problem with killing, they won't after a few months in the tank."

It was that thought that made him willing to wait. He turned to his brother with an evil grin. "Frieza, sometimes, you even amaze me. I guess I misjudged you."

Frieza patted his older sibling on the back. "I know, brother, I know." Secretly, though, he thought, _Oh, am_ I_ going to enjoy killing you one day, my brother.

* * *

_

A splash of water crashed into the face of a young Saiyan by the name of Broly, scattering itself across the jail cell as well as forcing the young warrior to consciousness. Startled, he whipped his head from left to right, taking in all the scene at once. He initially remembered being on Frieza's ship, then being darted in the back as part of some larger conspiracy. Immediately he turned to his right, and saw his best friend sitting right next to him, chained to the wall. He tried in vain to yank the chains binding himself to the wall, but found himself incapable of utilizing any of his strength. "SAUZAA!" he cried, then kept trying, in what was a futile effort, to break his chains. "What the hell..!"

Sauzaa greviously shook his head. "That crap they darted you with was 'Blue Death Poison;' the shit prevents you from making use of your ki until the antidote is administered. It's how they keep incredibly powerful prisoners in prison for very long periods of time," he explained. "They have to use separate means to restrain me, because their poison doesn't affect me."

"W...why not?"

"I'm a Pienorian, Broly. No poison in the universe affects us."

Broly let out a minor chuckle. "Hell of a lot of good that does us now. Did you have any idea what was going on? On the ship, I mean."

Sauzaa had overheard bits and pieces, but could not recall the entire story. "I know the person who darted you was a hired gun, paid by Frieza to play a part in all this. I believe Frieza wanted someone—basically, us—to take the fall for something. More than likely, he wanted the planets the dignitaries came from, I guess."

Broly rolled his eyes. "Sure as hell wouldn't surprise me."

Just at that moment, two separate jailers approached the cell that the two friends were locked in, and regarded them with predictable hostility. However irritating it was to move on with the process, they knew it was their job to take the accused to their court appearance. Thus, one opened the door while the other unlocked the chains that bonded the two to the wall. "Let's go, you two, come on." When the two accused were not fast enough on their feet, a shove sent them moving forward. A new set of chains were attached in order to prevent escape, and they were quickly on their way to the court room. Neither of them expected a fair trial due to the nature of the Cardarian judiciary system, but they knew that they had no choice.


	6. Chapter Four part two

Worthy of Legends

by Moonraker One

A/N: Let me set something straight: Broly is a few days under twelve by this point in the story. Considering that he and Goku were born on the same day, they are the _same age_. There is no way that Goku will be super Saiyan and facing Frieza yet, as he was in his mid-to-late twenties during the Frieza saga. Sorry to disappoint.

CHAPTER FOUR (part two)

A very impatient Cardarian judge cleared his throat with a bench-rattling cough and adjusted his glasses; the sheet of paper in front of him detailed two beings, one Saiyan and one Pienorian, who had been accused of murder of peace talk officials as well as conspiracy to instigate war between races. He hated having to try criminals that were classified as terrorists, but it had been his job for the previous ten years, and he knew more than anyone that the Cardarian empire put up with no terrorists. Rolling his eyes a moment, he took a sip of his water cup and banged his gavel one time. "Bring in the accused," he shouted in his raspy voice, which had been ravaged by decades of drinking. Several guards came in from side doors to accompany the two accused warriors to the defendant's position to defend their tattered honor and freedom. Once at their position, the prosecution took their separate position and the judge regarded them both and cleared his throat again. "So, you two are Sauzaa and Broly, both until now close servants of our Lord Cooler, am I correct?" Broly refused to acknowledge the judge's authority, as he stared solemnly at the floor, so it was up to Sauzaa to provide the "yes sir." The judge was not surprised at the lack of respect shown by the Saiyan, so he responded with, "Do you two realize that you are to be tried as terrorists, the penalty of which is either life's imprisonment in Chillita's Tank, or even death?" Sauzaa, unlike his younger partner, knew the horrors that was The Tank, the nickname for one of the worst prisons in the universe. It would be vastly an improvement to be sent to any other prison, as Cooler's little sister did horrible things to get prisoners to admit their wrong doings and repent. Assured of his and his friend's fate, he gave the answer yet again. "Then the evidence will be presented before the jury," the judge finished. "Lord Frieza, if you will."

Frieza handed a video disc to the prosecution from his position in the audience. The video screen flickered a few moments, the jury uneasy at the prospect of watching a gruesome murder, but in a matter of time they knew they'd have to make the decision that would wither condemn or free two warriors. The screen displayed a series of previously recorded images. Any court system other than Cardaria's would have had the tape analyzed beforehand, but then again, this planet accepted Frieza or Cooler's word without question. It was just the normal way of life. Images of a powerful Saiyan warrior standing over the bodies of a couple of extremely important diplomats who were dying in a large pool consisting of their blood. Frieza's "fiance," in the video, quickly ran up and noticed that a murder had been committed, and screamed before the camera cut off. In the eyes of the jury, they already had more than enough evidence to incriminate.

The judge looked solemnly at Broly, as though he had already made the decision. Clearing his throat, he shook his head and at once spoke up. "Broly, I see evidence enough to send you to one of two places," he explained. "I could send you to your death," his hand gestures were his way of enhancing his speech, as he mulled around what words to use, "or, I could send you to the worst prison in the history of this galaxy, to spend the remainder of your life." This was a very unique situation for the judge; he knew he couldn't send the Saiyan to his death, for it would possibly make him a martyr, nor could he send the warrior to prison for all his life, as that would make for bad publicity and make it seem as though another Saiyan was oppressed by the judiciary system of Cardaria, so he had to take it lightly. "So, what I _will_ do," he continued, thinking as he spoke, "is send you to prison, alone, with a twenty-year sentence."

Sauzaa knew he could not protect Broly if the Pienorian was separated from his friend. Thus, in response, he threw himself on the mercy of the judge. Unfortunately, Cardarian judges were not known for such a trait, and thus he was, in a way, talking to himself. "Your honor!" he shouted his friend's case. "Let my friend Broly go free!" A gasp, almost of laughter at the absurdity of the request, came in chorus from the audience. "No, wait! Wait! Listen to me!" Sauzaa hastily concocted what he thought to be a reasonable trade. "I'll serve his sentence, plus ten years! Just let him go free!"

The judge tossed the idea around in his mind a bit, then regarded Sazuaa. "Alright then, it has become obvious you two are very close friends." Broly seemed hopeful at first, at least, while the judge smiled. "Let them BOTH go to prison for a twenty year sentence."


	7. Chapter Five

Worthy of Legends

By Moonraker One

A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but again, I was busy.

CHAPTER FIVE

A pair of prisoners-en-route stood out amongst the large gathering of almost thirty-three other soon to be inmates. The cramped confines of the dingy, musty prison transport ship affected all, with the possible exception of Broly and Sauzaa, as the young Saiyan was still under the ki-concealing effects of the death poison, and the slightly older Pienorian had transported prisoners before. He knew from experience that all ships of the prison transport variety had the uniquely detestful aroma of old urine and mildew. The youthful Saiyan, looking thirty years aged due to the ill-treatment by his handlers, shook his head as a rusty-sounding cough echoed through the small transport and he pulled harshly on his chains; he hated being unable to utilize the ki he had worked his life to attain. Few things made him feel more worthless.

Broly stared at the floor. "I'm sorry Sauzaa," he mournfully confessed. "If I hadn't been weak, you'd be free right now."

"_Free_?" the French-accented Pienorian scoffed. "I hate Cooler. The idea of serving him; nothing in the universe is less free." Sauzaa knew what he was talking about; every time he'd lead a planet clearing, he'd torment himself with cuts and use harsh soap to remind himself of his sins. Maybe, he thought, prison might actually lessen his sentence in hell later on.

A ragged breath came to Broly as he gathered his thoughts. "But, you begged for my sake, and paid for it." He thought of how horrible it was for his friend to have to suffer a similar fate as him. "I hate myself for what you're suffering."

"Hey!" Sauzaa sharply answered. The last thing he wanted from an otherwise normal kid was despair; it meant his will was breaking. "You did NOTHING wrong. God'll give you a reward for your suffering." He had always believed that the kid would get rewarded in death, as he never had taken part of the massacrings that the rest of Cooler's troops and he did.

The pre-teen warrior mulled the idea around in his head as a fly landed on his nose a moment. "I sure hope so."

From the guard in charge of the small militia-like gathering of inmates came a bark of a laugh. "Ha," a horrific-looking prisoner barked. "Hate to disappoint ya, kid, but there ain't no God."

"Maybe not for you," Broly fired back. _Also not where there was Cooler or his brother,_ he quickly thought. He had every reason to be doubtful; his future had been mostly taken away for a young bastard son of King Cold to justify a planet's destruction.

The whirring, hiss-like hum of the transport's engines slowed, making an eerie downshift sound like a record slowing gradually. The repeating pattern that made up the walls of the final tunnel before the large blast door entrance had a near hypnotizing effect on some of the prisoners. "You assholes better learn to like this place," the main guard announced, " 'cause once you're _here_, you stay a long time." He'd done this job for twenty years; he'd see young and old, male and female, rich and poor, smart and damn stupid. The variety that was the inmates never ceased to astound him.

As it would every time, the ship creaked slowly until it got to the docking bay, then slammed to a stop less than a foot from the entrance bay, frightening the majority of the prisoners beyond their wits. The guards and the pilot conducted a quick inspection of the restraints, then led the inmates out of the transport and into the main entrance way. Several of the guards cocked their pulse rufles for added psychological effect. "Right this way, motherfuckers, an abnormally disfigured subordinate guard droned unenthusiastically. Inside a series of scans identified the pilot and the huge blast doors grumbled as they slid open. Absolutely none of the inmates believed what they saw just behind them.

"So THIS sorry bunch of shitheads is going in _my_ prison," a feminine voice called out. It belonged to a tall, leggy Cardarian female in an energy-proof set of armor that hugged her hips and flattered her chest. Had her power level not been on the level of her brothers, she possibly would not have been taken seriously.

A guard cleared his throat. "Lady Chillita!" he said, surprised. "You're…looking healthy!"

She rolled her eyes. "Fuck you," she uttered, waving him off as an afterthought.

"Leave that to me," an inmate joked, and was promptly jabbed in the gut by the girl in question.

"Any more jokers!" she shouted, as the prisoner fell flat on his face, unconscious. Predictably, no one spoke up. "Good. You're all in enough shit already." She waited for all to stand at attention before continuing. "Here's my rules. You kill an inmate, we stick you with knives in places that hurt like hell but don't kill. You rape an inmate, we take you to bottom level near the core." She sharpened her tone for the next statement. "It's always so damned hot down there, and the men down there haven't had a woman in, possibly sixty years. So think a bit before you have 'fun.' Fights are staged in the gym once a month. Winner gets a month off their sentence, loser gets to fly. Calaq, explain."

Calaq, an older guard, spoke up. "We attach thousand pounds weights to ya, and toss you from the top balcony. If you live, great! If you hit the lava at the bottom, oh well."

"You work in the factory building whatever the hell we tell you to,' Chillita continued. "Don't get any ideas of escape. We've got more security than your mothers have STDs. Now you all will be sent to your living quarters. If you have any complaints, the guards will be sure to take down your comments, then kill you. You bitch, you die. End of story." Upon a wave of her hand, a violent shove threw the line forward, with everyone headed to the same booth to get assigned. It was a very short walk down a dim hallway to the main guard's desk. He looked at the duo of Broly and Sauzaa, and almost laughed at the absurdity that was the juxtaposition; the younger was a tall Saiyan, and the older Pienorian stood almost a foot shorter.

"You two look like you come out of a damn circus," he said, assigning them to a dual cell ten thousand floors up from the core. They were then sent to the shower station.

A rather imposing mountain of a guard stood outside the open, eight-man shower room. With his back turned to the steam-filled chamber, he stood and listened unflinchingly—almost vengefully—for awkward sounds. Variety, while the spice of life, added hostility to the sauna-like atmosphere; Saiyans were not liked in Cardarian prisons. Sauzaa kept his gaze moving about the room, as he felt it was his duty to protect his young friend from sexual predators. Towering over the other inmates, Broly had little option save for attracting unwanted attention. "Whatcha in for, kid?" Neither of the two warriors kenw from whom the question had been uttered, but the main guard struck a metal pipe, generating an ear-rattling hum that oscillated throughout the chamber.

"You shower, you shut up!" he angrily boomed, instantly commanding attention from the showering inmates.

The water lasted only a few minutes after, then all were dried by exposure to high-frequency sound waves. A large waterproof crate sat immediately next to the entrance to the shower room. Each prisoner searched for his or her set of clothing then dressed themselves as quickly as possible. It was then up to them to go to the teleporter to be sent to the floor of his or her cell. Each floor had twelve teleporters, as the prison was carved into the very interior of the planet itself and had quite a few floors. As they stepped into separate teleporters, they immediately materialized on the floor, sixteen cells away from their own. Sauzaa knew what was coming next as several guards came quickly towards them. One of them shoved a thin, long needle into Broly's abdomen, injecting a hot orange liquid into his muscles.

"What the hell are you doing!" screeched the tall young Saiyan, as the needle hurt going in and out.

"Calm down, kid," one of the guards uttered. "We just gotta make sure you don't begin to rot from that poison that keeps you from using your ki."

Use of the word "rot" obviously frightened the young Saiyan. Sauzaa understood the rationale, because he had known about the use of the various types of death poisons that were used on especially powerful inmates. For some—Saiyans in particular—the more powerful versions were needed, and if a kind of booster shot wasn't administered every so often, the person would begin to rot through lack of ki activity. "Don't worry, Broly," the twenty year-old Pienorian advised. "This's just to keep your ki active so your body won't begin to deteriorate."

The uglier of the two guards sneered. "This is also another reason why you shouldn't think of escaping. If you try to run, you won't be able to get the stuff out of your system and you'll succumb to the rotting."

"Don't pay them any attention." Sauzaa looked down for a moment. "I'm just glad they didn't say anything mean or I would have had to bust them open." The cell which was theirs slid open the moment they came to it, so they didn't have to search for it at all. Stepping in, the Pienorian warrior was impressed; the accommodations were slightly less dirty than he expected. As they sat down, Broly noticed a depressed look on his friend's face. Sauzaa noticed this and wiped a tear from his eye. "Broly, I want you to promise me something."

Broly, lying down on his cot, looked up at his best friend, who forced a fake smile to avoid betraying his emotions, but it was too little too late. "What kind of promise?" inquired the tall Saiyan.

"I want you to promise me that you'll never submit to Cooler's will. I never want you to be the kind of murderer that I was…promise me!"

The tall Saiyan forced a challenging grin. "Is that a challenge? Fine! I accept!"


	8. Chapter Six

Worthy of Legends  
by Moonraker One

A/N: There is a scene in this chapter that may not be suitable for all. Be warned. Oh, and, I do not condone self-mutilation.

CHAPTER SIX

Sauzaa's Journal – Page sixty

I started this journal last year, roughly twelve months ago. Back then, both Broly and myself were extremely hopeful that our sentences would be drawn short, or that we would find ourselves on the guards' mercies. I dunno, we just had all these ideas of how we were going to make it through the situation we got put in. It looks now like all that was a lie. I've had to defend my young friend's and my honor in combat against these assholes who do not give a shit about anyone but themselves. Good lord; no wonder this place is full of the worst offenders in the universe. Oh, and if the way the guards've been torturing prisoners wasn't bad enough, get this: they changed the routine, and started giving Broly his "poison reprieve" shot less often, so as to torture him further. Poor bastard; he's gonna have his entire life taken away from him, and all because he had the misfortune to stand out enough to become Cooler's lackey. Goddamn. I thought _my_ life was shit. He's never going to have a future; he's thirteen and by the time he gets out, he'll be a man. He'll have grown up, without any chance for a childhood, without knowing any friendship or love, and he'll probably turn into the murderous freaks that Cooler's type loves to enlist. I hate that man, and I hope he dies a horrible death. I know for a fact that Broly deserves so much more than me, because I did the work Cooler asked me to. I did the purges, I did the killings, and I have more blood on my hands than any other servant of the bastard child of Cold ever will. Well, I have to go; I hear the mess hall guys coming around, and that means I have a very short period of time before the food's gone. I owe it to Broly to give him most of my food. He's a young boy; he shouldn't be here. He should be playing somewhere with other kids his age, he should be getting dirty and watching the days go by having fun. But he can't, because he had to be born under the dominion of Cold and his bastard children.

A young boy lay in the corner of a small cell, breathing heavily. Broly hadn't gotten his medicine in almost two months now and as such, the poison continually flowing through his system to disallow him access to his ki had drained him of his ability to move. If he got his shot soon, he'd be up and walking in less than an hour. If not, he'd inevitably lose even the strength to sit upright against the wall, as he currently was sitting. Sauzaa had left the cell a few minutes prior, and from the sound of footsteps placed exactly a certain fraction of a second apart—a Saiyan learned to memorize the footsteps of their allies—he knew it was the French-accented Pienorian approaching.

"Broly! I got," he began, entering the chamber they were stuck in. Once he saw his friend, however, he realized that he would be forced to sit beside the young Saiyan and feed him his lunch. The Saiyan had the strength left to chew, but not to lift his arms to feed himself. "Oh, crap, you're _that_ weak from the poison. Oh well, no problem."

Broly opened his mouth as Sauzaa lifted his fork to the kid's mouth and fed him. Once he finished chewing, he said, "I'm sorry, Sauzaa. I wish I could lift my arms. I must look goddamn pitiful."

Blinking away tears, the Pienorian replied, "It's okay, Broly. I've done this sort of thing before, too." He frowned at the thought of the prison guards denying him his medicine until it was nearly too late. "Those assholes. They could give you the medicine like you need."

"Even still, I shouldn't be this pathetic."

"Broly!" Sauzaa sharply argued. "Don't blame yourself! That's the first thing they want you to do!" He lowered his tone of voice. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell at you."

"No, no, that's exactly the sort of help I need."

Sauzaa chuckled, to ease the situation. He had worked in every possible situation in which someone was weak and almost every need of theirs had to be attended to. This came from his servitude to the two children of the king of the Cardarian Empire. As he lifted another forkful of food to the mouth of his young friend, he saw the pained expression on the Saiyan's face as he utilized what strength he could muster to keep himself sitting upright against the wall. The clock on the wall outside the cell indicated that time was approaching for the daily recess of certain prisoners. He decided that if he was given the chance to leave his cell, he'd try and ask the warden to give Broly his required medicine to weaken the effect of the poison.

"Alright, guys, you can come out for recess," a guard said, letting Sauzaa exit the cell. His view passed over the young Saiyan. "What's wrong with him?"

"The poison you guys use to keep him from using his ki is killing him!" Sauzaa shouted at the guard. "You need to administer the temporary antidote!" The guard saw that Broly was in bad shape. It was his job to report to the main office when the poison reached the critical point, beyond which saving the prisoner is impossible. According to what he could see, he'd reach the point by mid-afternoon.

"Okay, okay," he surrendered. "I'll alert the main office and administer the antidote within the hour."

Satisfied, Sauzaa left the area. However, as he entered the teleporter, he was not headed towards the main level to join the other inmates in the activity rooms. His goal was something a little sneakier; Cooler was meeting with his younger sister very soon, and as such the French-accented Pienorian wanted to hear every word that was spoken between the two.

A circular disc of a spaceship descended onto the ragged surface of The Tank. Its spider-like landing legs extended outward from the bottom, providing a soft landing for the thousand or so passengers of Cooler's main spacecraft. A tube of an exit ramp stretched from the ship to an airlock door, and allowed for a release in air before allowing the elder son of Cold and his five bodyguards through to the subterranean prison. It was at the primary entrance that Chillita awaited the arrival of her brother. She hated him so desperately, but had to act professional, as she had been appointed to oversee the actions of The Tank and six other prisons in the same system.

The somewhat royal-looking Cooler did his best to hide the limp in his leg. He limped because the air had to be cold to offset the surface temperature of the planet. Once he saw his younger sister, a look of gloom seemed to overcome him, and he had almost to force himself to go on with the meeting. After all, his father had requested that he make sure she was doing her job. Cooler personally didn't give a shit.

"Cooler," Chillita nonchalantly said, greeting her older sibling.

"Chillita," he replied.

Cooler cleared his throat. "I suppose you know why I'm here."

She rolled her eyes. "Yup. Father sent you to check on me."

"Personally, Chillita, I came because I wanted to know the status of my two primary servants who've been incarcerated."

She led him towards her office. They walked a short distance through a series of blast doors to a normal looking hallway, at the end of which was a fancy office. She took her seat behind her desk and pushed a chair over for her brother to sit in. The mood was so dull it could put anyone to sleep.

"So, tell me brother, what is it you want to know?" She knew immediately what his question would be.

"I was wondering," he led her on with, "what state exactly is the mood of Broly in?"

She pulled his file. "Cooler, I know why you sent that boy here," she explained, cutting straight to business. "You wanted him to learn what it meant to be put through hell, so that he would become a psychotic freak. While I'm positive that will happen due to the extra harsh treatment I'm giving him, I haven't noticed a drastic change in his temperament. It's as if what we're doing to him is strengthening his resolve not to break."

Cooler looked angrier than before. "This place is supposed to be the worst prison in the universe! How can he not be broken?"

"Oh _he'll_ be broken, my brother, but I doubt it'll happen within the next ten years of his sentence. He's a tough nut to crack. Believe me, I've tried _everything_. He just refuses to surrender his will."

Like a lightning bolt, it struck Cooler. "I have an idea. Release him into my custody, and he'll spend the rest of his sentence serving me. I'm sure his hatred of me will serve my purpose."

"But the court would never…"

He stamped his foot. "I _own_ the damn court system! Me! I can get any judge to do anything I damn well please! Just give him the permanent antidote."

She shook her head. "Well, if you insist."

Before Cooler broke into small chat with his sister, he asked, "Tell me, what _is_ the permanent antidote?"

"For the temporary antidote, we use diluted Sokore's Bane," she explained. "For the _permanent_ antidote, we just administer Pienorian blood."

A few minutes prior to the meeting between Cold's children, Sauzaa had snuck into the bathroom on the top level, directly above the main floor. Earlier, when assigned to the crew that would come in on occasion to clean Chillita's office, he had planted a listening bug beneath her desk where she wouldn't find it. Entering the farthest stall, he shut and locked the door, then put the toilet seat down and sat on it, pulling up his feet so guards checking the stalls for people would not find him. With the remote radio he had built in the metal shop, he attached an earphone to his ear, and activated the listening device. The conversation was predictable to him, until he heard the last part.

_The blood of my species?_he thought. _I always thought they used some imported antidote, because some poisons don't react to universal antidotes, but ordinary Pienorian blood will work?_

He had to act quickly. Making sure no guards were in the restroom, he left with much stealth. He took the teleporter down to the main floor. Finding a random inmate standing next to a supporting beam, he surprised the man by grabbing his shirt and thrusting his head into the beam. In anger, the inmate, kneed Sauzaa in the gut and, collaring him, threw him into the glass window of the hallway. With glass shards falling all over, the inmate kicked Sauzaa in the chest repeatedly until guards came to break up the fight.

"Break it up, you two!" he shouted at both of them. He looked at Sauzaa. "You! Clean this glass up!"

"Right away," Sauzaa agreed, pulling himself up and lifting the glass by hand, being careful not to cut himself as he placed it in the trash. One shard with a nasty curved edge he placed in a crevice between the sole and heel of his shoe. Then he headed back to his cell.

Sauzaa found Broly lying on the floor with his eyes closed, and his breaths coming labored. It was obvious the guard earlier had lied and not administered the medicine as he had agreed. Thus, his friend did not have the strength to sit up, or even to keep his eyes open. "Sauzaa…" Broly muttered, pouring most of his effort into speaking. "Sau…zaa…"

Sauzaa knelt next to the young Saiyan. Caressing the sides of his head to calm him down, he replied, "Shh. It's okay, Broly, I'm here. Just calm down and get your strength together." Removing from his shoe the glass shard with the curved edge, he placed the curved edge directly below the palm of his hand.

With a single, swift motion, and the clenching of his teeth with the shutting of his eyes, he sliced through the soft skin above his wrists. The pain shot through him like a bullet, and he felt like screaming, but he kept as silent as possible. He was no stranger to pain and self-mutilation. "Open your mouth, Broly, I got some medicine that'll give you your strength back." It seemed to work, as the Saiyan opened as wide as he could. Holding his cut arm over the child's mouth, his life blood poured out.

"Sauzaa," Broly said through sips. "It tastes warm and bitter."

As his own strength began to fade, and his sight blur, Sauzaa smiled as he could sense the ki returning to its usual flow through Broly's body. It would only be a matter of minutes before the boy was at full strength once again. _I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you more, Broly,_ he thought. "Don't worry, just drink it. You'll feel better. I promise." He shed a tear as his body warmth began to dissipate. He wished he could have been there more, or have been a better friend to the young Saiyan. A few seconds later, Sauzaa couldn't stand any longer, and fell semi-conscious on the floor next to Broly. The young warrior in question found his power rapidly returning to his body, and as such, he stood up, and opened his eyes.

"Sauzaa!" he began to cry. "It worked…SAUZAA! WHAT THE FUCK!" He knelt beside his best friend and comrade. "You…you cut yourself! Why?"

"My blood is the antidote. Goodbye, Broly…I love…you…" Then, with a bow of his head, the young Pienorian warrior, who had seen so much, and cared for a young child who had never been given a chance so much, was gone. Servants of Cooler were approaching to drag the young Saiyan back to his former master, but none of that mattered much. The horrifying finality of the situation struck Broly all at once. He thought back to all the times he'd shared with his best friend, and knew that now, no more would ever come. And it was all because of Cooler. The bastard child of King Cold, his name was the only thought repeating through the mind of the young Saiyan. Cooler. Cooler. Cooler…

"COOLER!" He could think of nothing more than the piece of shit that had created the problem from the get go. Nothing more than the very person that was the prince of the Cardarian Empire, was on his mind. This time, he had gone too far. This time, no more second chances or mercy would be given. It was over. Blood would be spilled this time. Hundreds of inmates became horrified when a penetrating scream echoed through the halls, as the electrical surge of Saiyan power almost magnified the air. A tall, lanky Saiyan buffed up as he went from regular Super Saiyan to the holy status of Legendary Super Saiyan. He became a mountain of muscle, looking several years older than his thirteen-year-old self. At the peak of his might, he kicked the cell door, shattering it to pieces as easily as crushing a potato chip. Entering the hallway, crowded with inmates determined to find out what had happened, his mere presence cleared the walkways of everyone in sight.

Someone was going to die. He would make sure of it.


	9. Chapter Seven

Worthy of Legends  
By Moonraker One

A/N: Oh GOD, has it been THAT LONG since I last updated? Wow. Sorry for the abruptness of this chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"COOOOOOLLLLERRRR!"

A loud, booming screech echoed through the large, carved out interior section of the prison planet. Bolts of lightning as well as surges of ki unlike anything any of the inmates had ever felt before emanated hundreds of miles even beyond the planet's atmosphere. Violently did the entire planet shake. Tears salted by rage and sweat spiced by anger dripped off the mighty Saiyan. The light coming from the core of the planet caused the liquid coating Broly's body to sparkle slightly, giving his brilliant glow an even greater effect. From toe to head he stood no less than eight and fifth feet tall and his muscular frame weighed in all, eleven hundred pounds. His fist was the size of some boulders and if he had shoes large enough to accommodate his current form, they would be close to size forty-nine. The guards were intelligent enough to stay on the surface. Chillita had the common sense to remain in her office. Many of the prisoners had the wisdom to head for the top levels.

Only one figure dared approach such a terrifyingly imposing character as a pissed-off Legendary Super Saiyan Broly. The mammoth warrior's head turned towards his most hated enemy.

"COOLER!"

Floating down from the top level, the eldest son of Cold had seldom felt such a powerful ki. However, being who he was, he felt assured of his superiority. An evil sneer made it onto his face as he stared at his former apprentice. "You truly are a powerful one!" His compliments were wasted on Broly who had no sense of compassion for the man in front of him. Gesturing friendly, he made an offer. "You could truly be my greatest warrior EVER!" He tilted his head left and right for effect. "Think about it: with power like I'm feeling off of you now, you could easily conquer any world you wanted. You could very well take anything you wanted and be strong enough to satisfy any whim that came your way with a mere word. You could have ANYTHING." The son of Cold had a talent for words when making offers; that could not be disputed. "Just tell me one thing you want, and you can have it."

"I want my friend Sauzaa back _YOU SON OF A BITCH_!"

**WHAM**.

Before he could even blink, he found himself bent concavely by the sheer unrivaled force of a giant fist plowing into his abdomen. A small sphere of blood ejected from his mouth and splattered on the Saiyan's stomach as his liver absorbed the vast majority of the impact and ruptured instantly. In the space of a single instant, the gigantic Broly drove his right leg upward, nailing Cooler directly on his chin, propelling him backward at a ludicrous speed to smash through miles and miles of rock of the planet.

The tyrant son, approaching with blood pouring from his mouth, coughed more up and dragged his fist backward. Utilizing all of his powerful strength he drove his fist directly into the chest of Broly. It did not even tickle. Furthermore, it was little more than a small dot compared to the torso of the Saiyan. Easily he took Cooler's head in his left hand (the bastard child's entire head fit snugly within a single hand's grip), and drove his right knee into him, crushing his rib cage at once.

"You…" Cooler rasped. "You…WILL…NEVER…DEFEAT…ME…!"

Broly blasted a hole through Cooler's torso, then threw him downward into the molten core.

"Go…to hell…you mother…fucker…" Broly hesitatingly uttered. Then, in a moment of desperate sorrow, threw his arms back and screamed as loudly as he had ever done so. The power release alone was enough to nearly shake the planet apart.

Crying he flew down to his cell and picked up the lifeless body of Sauzaa. He flew up to the surface, still in his most powerful form. _Sauzaa, you were my best friend,_ he thought. _I will take you back to Pienorial to have you properly buried._

He had won his hardest battle yet, and annihilated his worst enemy. But things were just getting started for a thirteen-year old Legendary Super Saiyan.


	10. Chapter Eight

Worthy of Legends  
By Moonraker One

A/N: God there was a lot of crap going on in my life! Sorry for the wait. And for the crummy length of this chapter. But I HAD to post something.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Still in the midst of his most powerful form, Broly scanned the somewhat desolate and lifeless surface of the prison planet; he was not surprised at what he saw. All of the escape pods and ships off had been destroyed in case anything had happened. Cooler himself had come in a space pod, which had been blown up. Likely, the bastard son of Cold had asked a ship to come only when he called, to prevent any prisoners from escaping that way when he showed up. Also, it made it quite difficult for a certain Saiyan child to flee in case of battle. _Cooler, even in death you're a son of a bitch,_ he thought. Still, he had made a promise. He had to get to Pienorial to give his friend a proper burial amongst his people. An idea came to him as he looked back a moment at the destroyed entrance bay to the interior prison section of the planet.

A five-inch thick steel door separated the hallway of Chillita from the rest of the upper level. She hid under her desk upon hearing the commotion going on. A single kick from a certain Super Saiyan fragmented the blast door immediately, revealing the hallway. The interior of the planet was ready to blow soon, as could be determined from the planetary shaking, so if there could be a way off the god forsaken planet, she would know. When the door to her office found itself shattered, she got perfectly silent and covered her head.

A single smooth motion of his hand launched the desk through the window, revealing the head mistress of the prison planet. She looked at him and began to shake in terror. "P…Please…Please don't…don't kill me…!" He snatched her up by the neck and raised her to his eye level. Her neck and shoulders fit within his hand.

He stared at her with cold, pain-scorched eyes. "I'd love to kill you," he explained, his voice raspy and angry, no longer possessing any of its previous child-like qualities. "However, I made a promise that I wouldn't become the kind of monster your family is loaded with." He threw her down. "Now, tell me how the hell I'm supposed to get out of here!" He looked at his left shoulder, on which his friend's corpse lay. "I have to take him home so he can be buried with honor!"

"I…I…uh, I have…" she stammered. She could not have been more nervous; she had been the reason his friend lie dead, and his prison stay had been so torturous. What really kept him from killing her? It would be no effort at all. "I…I have a couple of escape pods in the secret level."

"Take me there. NOW!"

She nearly fell over. "I…sure! Right away!"

He walked with her down the walkway to the secret room with the emergency pods. With nervous hands she entered the room. There were exactly two pods left in their tubes in the otherwise abandoned escape room. She pressed a single button on the wall, which activated the escape vehicles, and thankfully they both opened up without problem. Powering down to his base form, Broly took a seat in the first pod carrying his friend in his arms. "Now tell me, what are the coordinates for planet Pienorial?" Nervously she typed in the data into the pod's computer.

She stared into his eyes as he shut the door to the pod, and the door to the metal launch tube slid shut. The burst of air that preceded each pod launch sprayed from several ventilation slots before the pod found itself blasted into outer space. Taking a seat in the other pod she thought a brief moment of what she had just seen. _So this is what my brother feared._ Such a sight had never been seen by eyes, she believed. She shut the pod door and prepared for launch. The computer of the pod droned on. "Destination set: Planet Cardaria." She had to get back to her father on their species' homeplanet. The duty rested on her now to tell father of Cooler's death, and of a new, extraordinarily powerful threat to the Cold family. The threat had to be dealt with, and only her father would know how.

But she then thought of Cooler himself, and of Frieza. Both of her brothers did not like her, because she was the outcast of the bloodline. Her father had impregnated their mother, a high-ranking Cardarian senator, and she'd given birth to two brothers exactly three years apart. Chillita, however, had been the product of a scandalous liaison between Cold and one of his generals. Because of this they looked down upon and treated her as excrement. Even her own father did not enjoy the acknowledgement of her existence. She pulled the energy shield off the computer, and typed in some data. Closing the energy shield back over the computer, it droned again, "Destination set: Planet Pienorial." Fuck her family; why should she tell them?

A six hour flight at seven times the speed of light, the computer knew was the shortest way to planet Pienorial. The planet on which Sauzaa had been born never had or needed, prior to the Cold family's discovery and subsequent "modernization" of the planet, powerful military forces or strong warriors. In fact, Sauzaa had been among the first batch of Pienorians to be trained in the advanced art of combat. He had been the best, which could only be the main reason why Cooler kept him as his personal tool of destruction. The bastard always looked for a younger, more powerful source of death dealing, which was Broly. Sauzaa, at first, did not like the thought of a new tool for his master, but found it quite impossible to feel anything except friendship towards the young Saiyan who never really was given a choice.

A mist of fine water vapor and non-hazardous chemicals sprayed the young Saiyan and his dead friend, waking him up. "Wake up," the computer droned in its preprogrammed feminine voice. "Arrival is now on Planet Pienorial." The pod rumbled as reentry burned the outer layer of reinforced shield metal. It landed hard on one of the cushy landing pads, with several crewmen nearby to greet the pod's inhabitants. The door slid open.

"H…hello?" one of the crewmen uttered. "What is your business here on Pienorial."

"This," Broly responded, stepping out and laying the body of his friend on the ground. "He died and I wanted to bring him back here for a proper burial. His name is…"

"Sauzaa!" One of the crewmen recognized him. "My God, I was in a secondary unit with him a few years ago before transfer home! We need to tell the mother."

"No," Broly uttered. "Give me her information and I'll tell her."


	11. Chapter Nine

Worthy of Legends

by Moonraker One

A/N: Please forgive another short chapter. I apologize, but I've had so much going on you wouldn't believe.

CHAPTER NINE

It had been nothing short of ironic. A sixteen day rain ended on the day Sauzaa would be laid to rest. Everyone of a few dozen different friends and acquaintances of the Pienorian came dressed in their best dark clothing in order to see their friend or their relative one more time. The casket open, each person gave a flower to him. As Broly stepped up to the container in which his best friend lay, he noticed how much different he looked now. In a glorious piece of armor, covering all his self-inflicted wounds, and his hair done, the years of torment and psychological abuse seemed to fade, in the moments after death. The young Saiyan stood at the podium.

"He was my best friend," Broly elaborated, attempting to summarize a few years of thanks into an impromptu speech. His problem was thus; how do you say "thank you for those years of being my friend?" How could he begin to express the humanity and unity, not to mention the love that he never would have known, in a short speech? Tears fell as the final words of Sauzaa returned to the young Saiyan. "Working with Cooler, as underlings, our job was quite simple; killing. God knows how many innocent lives ended because of the planet trade." He wiped his eyes. "He..he al...he always" He doubted his own ability to prevent his voice from breaking up, "...he always hated it. He'd carve a...a new mark on his arm. To remind himself fo what he owed God, he'd tell me." Closing his eyes, he pictured Sauzaa in heaven. "It was his caring for me that kept me from turning into the type of monster Cooler wanted me to be. Reaching behind him he rubbed the warrior's forehead. "I could never repay all the compassion you gave to me. Goodbye, my friend."

Stepping down he received a hug from Sauzaa's mother. It seemed unusual; a powerful warrior had been the child of such a petite woman and an ordinary farmer man. Even in base form he towered above all those present. The crowd gathered around him each turned upon hearing footsteps. A tiny figure, wrapped in stylish black feminine armor, approached. Several faces, Broly's included, expressed hostility and anger upon the sight of his best friend's former captor, Chillita. "I'm deeply sorry if I cause further grief with my presence," she uttered, "but I would have respectfully not attended had I not been invited." The warrior who had slain her evil brother looked so puny-despite his height-in his base form; such a contrast to the pillar of might his legendary form seemed. "I...I must know why I was invited."

"I sensed you had a decent soul when I met you," Sauzaa's mother reminded. "Besides, I know how cruel your family can be when they feel like doing something. I'd lost friends before to Cooler." She recalled the rude, biting words she'd said to Chillita the night before. "I must apologize for how rude I was to you last night."

"Ma'am, seek no such thing from me. Your son never once engaged in cruelty to fellow prisoners, even devoted his help to fellow cellmate Broly here." She looked up at the immense figure of the Saiyan for support. "If your son's personality and caring were common traits, no evil could exist." She coughed. "Broly, may I speak to you privately?"

The young Saiyan took a short stroll with Chillita. "What is it?"

She reached in a pocket and removed an info disc. "I wanted to tell you privately of this, because of what might be created in terms of a crisis if Sauzaa's mother found out."

"What would cause a problem?" Broly did not understand.

She knew if anyone could accomplish it, this Saiyan could. "A planet named Namek has long been an intended target of my father. In the past, refugees have fled fearing Cold's wrath. My brother Frieza wants the planet but due to crises going on in home system, will probably have to wait about ten years. One group of Namekian refugees I received word of being held prisoner on a plenet called Keerano. Their captivity is based on a talent that they have that may prove extremely useful."

She got his attention. "How useful?"

"I dare not explain in this crowd, but suffice to say you may get to see your friend again."

Broly resisted the urge to scream "what" as loudly as he could. In disbelief he stood. "How," he whispered, "How can the dead be resurrected?"

Chillita shook her head. "I can't explain in this crowd. I'll come to you later on. Now, I must pay my respects to your friend."


	12. Chapter Ten

Worthy of Legends  
by Moonraker One

A/N: Oh cripes, it's been a really long time since I updated. Well, if you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, I've been going through the most tumultuous time in my life. I really don't want this story to die, I just couldn't think during these last months

CHAPTER TEN

Inside the private space ship of Chillita, sitting in the hangar, two figures sat in a soundproof room. One, the towering figure of Broly, who sat intrigued and amazed above all else at the prospect presented by his former captor. The youngest sibling of the Cold family cleared her throat and began the explanation. "Broly," she spoke, "I need you to understand something. My family is one of the most powerful and influential in the universe. However, they are also one of the most evil. I have long since grown tired of the constant bickering between my siblings and my father. You, I believe, are the key to stopping this all. That's why I'm helping you. Now, you had a question for me."

Clearing his throat, Broly tried his best to gather his thoughts and translate them efficiently into words; a feat proving difficult. "I believe you said that I could get my friend Sauzaa back. Please tell me how."

She shook her head; how would she tell the story? And would he grasp it all if she did? Such were concerns as she attempted to reconfigure the story she'd been told numerous times. "Long ago, the planet Namek underwent a massive crisis which threatened the very planet itself. There were several different varieties of Namekians, divided amongst themselves by the color of their skin. Almost all the varieties suffered eradication except for the green-skinned Namekians, which were divided into various clans based on talent. The Fang clan prided themselves on their high battle power levels and fighting skill, the Scale clan on their agricultural abilities and their knowledge of nature, and then, the most famous of them all; the Dragon clan."

He rubbed his forehead. "Dragon clan?"

She nodded. "Yes. They prided themselves on their ability to utilize magic. In time, their magical powers multiplied and enhanced. One day, a prodigy of the clan rose to power as the leader of all Namekians; his name was Guru, and he based his dominion on what had to be the grandest use of sorcery in the universe: the bringing to life of a wish-granting demonic dragon named Porunga."

Broly could scarcely imagine what he heard. "_Wish-granting demonic dragon_?...! You mean...!"

"Certainly," she confirmed. "This dragon had, at its disposal, all of the magic of its creator, and an immense amount of power. It utilized this power to grant the wish of whomever desired something. However, in time, travelers from space began to misuse this dragon's ability, so as a safety precaution he made it so seven mystical artifacts had to be gathered together in one location, and a magical incantation recited in the native language of Namekian, in order for Porunga to be brought forth. And once three wishes had been granted—for that was all that one would be afforded in one turn—he would disappear and the artifacts would become ordinary rocks for six months to a year, depending on the difficulty of the wish. These artifacts were called the Dragon Balls."

"And the refugees on the planet Keerano," Broly inquired, "they're members of this 'Dragon clan' also? They can make Dragon Balls?"

"Yes, and here's what I know through intel: the Lord Tchomok, Grand Master of Keerano, has ordered them to create Dragon Balls for his homeplanet so that he can be immortal and his armies indestructible. He wishes for his dominion to stretch over the known universe. They've been resisting, but I doubt they can wait much longer."

"Just give me a space pod with the planet's coordinates. I'll free them."

She smiled. "I'm so glad I can finally see a future without my evil family in it," she admitted. "You are, without a doubt, a pillar of hope." She kissed him on the cheek as he stood up to leave. "Good luck."

Many light years away, six Namekians sat in a dingy holding cell, eagerly casting magic at a statuette and seven orbs in their presence. It would usually not take them this long to create their desired artifact, but they stalled to delay the inevitable. One purposely screwed up the wording in one of the spells so that the entire group had to start over again. Hundreds of feet above them, in a chamber with grand decor, a muscular figure sat on a throne. His body saw decals of all sorts speaking volumes about his war experience (basically, how many peoples he'd slaughtered), and his purplish pants and torso robe. He impatiently drummed his fingers on his armrest. "Tell me, servant, is the task completed yet?"

The servant trembled in fear of death. "N...no sir, they're...they still toil away at the objects," he stammered.

"Ah, curse it all!" swore Tchomok. "At this point they're merely trying to stall me. Inform them I'll wait no longer. If they continue I'll slay them all."

"Yes...Yes sir!"

"Damn it all," he mumbled under his breath. "One task and it can't...huh?" Loud commotion resounded from just outside his palace walls. "The hell?" He stood up and looked at another servant. "Servant! Find out the source of that racket!"

Several different soldiers fired ki shots at a Saiyan figure. Broly merely deflected them all. He saw not Keeranese foot soldiers charging him; he saw servants of Cooler trying to take his head. It only fueled his anger. He crushed their skulls with one hit apiece as they neared for their attempts. As though a swarm of army ants, very nearly the entire security force of Tchomok converged on him. A single burst of energy from a radical powerup to Legendary Super Saiyan sent them all sailing. "TCHOMOK!" he shouted. "GET OUT HERE NOW!"

The leader himself emerged from his castle. "You there! How dare you interfere in my affairs? I swear you will not live to further affect my plans!" He leapt down nimbly from his balcony and began to trade blows. It became rather apparent unimaginably quickly how outgunned he actually was.

Broly saw Cooler's sneering face in Tchomok as he smashed and pounded at the body of the planet's tyrant leader. The once-proud dictator found his clothes in tatters and his frame beginning to fail him as blood shot some distance from his gaping wounds with each furious blow by a merciless Super Saiyan.

"Pl...ea..se...spare me...Please...I beg...of...you..." his pleas fell on deaf ears.

"I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, COOLER!" he shouted, slowly beginning to lose his grip on reality. He felt the weight of his torment from his late captor bearing down on his mind. If he dared let up, for even a second, if he dared give in to mercy, he'd be sorry, he'd be deadly sorry. "I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"

"I'm...not...not...him...Not..."

By this point, Broly had the leader by his throat, pounding at his face. On the edge of death was the once arrogant leader. The young Saiyan felt his mind beginning to approach a tipping point, a point of no return, of sorts. The image of his former captor burned permanently into his mind, he dangerously teetered on the edge of something irreversible, something irreparable. He didn't even see the broken body of Tchomok anymore. He saw an image, a voice, a face, a name, just keep repeating itself, over and over again. Just keep repeating, over and over again, he dared not let it go for fear of it coming back to haunt him.

"COOLER!" He screeched on as he kept hitting. "COOOOOLEERRRR!"

As if by divine intervention, he felt an intangible, invisible force stay his hand from his next blow. He saw Tchomok, dead in his left hand, and at once the horror hit him. The undeniable finality of the situation struck him. The face and body of the dictator beaten beyond recognition, his blood staining the entire figure of the young Saiyan, and marking the ground for a few feet around him, he instinctively dropped the victim of his outburst. He had taken a life, mercilessly and without remorse, monstrously and with much hatred charged into it, and as he felt all these emotions burn through his heart at once a thought occurred to him that frightened him more than anything else would in his long life to be.

"I...I massacred him..." he whispered to himself, collapsing to a kneeling position. "I...finally..actually did it..."

No compassion did he show.

No mercy did he grant.

No remorse did he afford.

No chance did his enemy have.

"I finally, actually, did it," he silently mouthed. A tear slid down his cheek. A river of them soon followed.

"COOLER YOU BASTARD! AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaagggghhhh!" His anguished cry of torment resounded loudly as he cried, burying his face in his hands. None dared come near him.

All those years and all those attempts couldn't get him to do it, he knew, and finally he had taken a step which would serve as a turning point in his future. He had done as his former captor had always wanted, and taken a life without any regard to whether or not it was the right thing to do. As Cold's eldest son had always desired of Broly, he had committed first degree murder without giving a second thought. Granted, he had done so with the brutal torture of his taskmaster eating away at his dam of emotion, and he had done it to a self-serving genocidal tyrant, but murder was murder regardless of victim.

Broly pounded the dirt in a final display of sorrow, clenching his eyes to eliminate the final tear of the outburst. _Why'd you have to make me do it, Cooler? WHY?...!_ His breathing returned almost to normal. Defying the emotions he felt at the moment, he forced himself to stand and began trudging towards the holding cell; he had come for a reason.

The cell door gave way as the young Saiyan forcefully ripped it off. "Oh my god, we've been saved!" The eldest cried. "I'd tell you we'd do anything to repay you, but I think I know how we can do that already," he motioned behind him. "Let's go outside."

They summoned the dragon that they'd created. "We're going to stay here on Keerano and make sure no evil tyrant ever rises to power to oppress these people ever again," the oldest Namekian explained, "so you can have all three wishes to yourself. Arise, Shomaka!" The sky blackened as lightning erupted and struck the center ball of the formation; a golden streak of light shot into the sky and a massive dragon, wound like a screw around many different invisible turns, appeared.

"I have come to grant you three wishes," he boomed, "state them so I may return to my slumber."

"Great Dragon Shomaka," Broly shouted, the Namekian translating his words to the dragon. "My friend Sauzaa committed suicide to save me from certain death; please restore him to life!"

The dragon's eyes shone a moment. "Your wish has been granted. What is your next wish?"

"Sauzaa cut himself many times, can you remove these self inflicted wounds?"

Once more the wish was granted. But at an impasse, Broly had not thought of a third one. But then, he thought of the destruction of Vegeta, and the deadly blow to the Saiyan race. Sure, the refugee camps existed, but the threat of species extinction was great. He had now the opportunity to prevent that.

"I wish that the offspring of a Saiyan, regardless of the parentage, always be full-blooded Saiyan; furthermore, I want all Saiyans to know of their heritage from birth without the evil we once had."

As the wish was granted and the Dragon Balls scattered around the surface of the planet, one of the younger Namekians turned to the lanky Saiyan. "What will you do now, that you have your friend back?"

Broly scratched his head, and made a decision. "I'm gonna go and find as many Saiyans throughout the universe as I can, now that I'm sure my people will be around forever."

"I wish you the best of luck, my Saiyan friend." he shook Broly's hand. "If you ever get into trouble, you will always have a place to go here on Keerano. Goodbye."

"Goodbye!" he uttered as he got into his space pod and took off to visit his friend once again.

END OF PART ONE

(P.S.: Whoa! Hold it! Don't blow a fuse! I know what you're thinking! The story ain't over yet! In fact, it's only really starting now! We haven't introduced the main crew yet, and gotten into the main storyline. Stay tuned!)


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